


time is a chain

by litra



Series: Hourglass [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Slavery, Slaves, Sort Of, Tatooine Slave Culture, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2019-10-22 17:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17666927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litra/pseuds/litra
Summary: Padme time travels back to before she was queen and ends up being captured as a slave, and sold to Gardula the Hutt. There she meets Shmi, and realizes that things can still be changed.





	1. Those I once knew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/gifts).



> So I was talking with Reena Jenkins and then this happened. I'm not sure if it's her fault or the fact that I'm procrastinating working on my other stories. :P

Padme kept her head bowed along with the other three women in the line, one Twi'lek one other human and one Mon Calamari. The binders around her wrists pinched, but she had long ago learned to ignore the small pain. 

It had been four years since she'd found herself on an outer rim world, lost and alone without her children or her friends. Without Anakin. She'd fought back, or tried to, when the slavers found her, but she wasn't a jedi, and she'd barely been able to stand after giving birth.  Now there were whip scars on her back and around her throat from the shock collar. She'd learned to hate the word Master, with more passion then she'd ever hatted the trade federation or the separatists. 

Four years and she still didn't know why or how she had ended up where she had. Only that no one spoke about the war, or the senate. Out on the rim no one seemed to care. 

Gardulla the Hutt slid forward, looking at the selection of slaves, of which Padme was one. She held her fan in front of her face as if to ward away some smell. Padme would be the first to admit that she needed a bath, but it was nothing next to the dry cloying stink of the Hutts. 

Padme wasn't sure she wanted to be sold. Her current owner was at least a known quantity. Then again, Tatooine saw a lot of traffic, for a planet on the outer rim. Enough traders and bounty hunters came through that she might be able to learn something. And then there was the Lars family. She didn't want to put them in danger by asking them to harbor a runaway slave, but if she could get a message to them...

"Her, and her." Gardula said, gesturing with her fan as a droid translated. Padme was led forward, along with the Twi'lek. 

The slaver bowed to cover his grin, and gestured for his droids to take the others away. "A fine choice Lady Gardula. Now the price we agreed upon, It will be in cho-mar of course."

Gardula said something else and the droid started to translate, but Padme was being led away. The opulence of the main hall vanished as they were lead into the slave's quarters. Gardulla's slave master took their controllers, recalibrating them to the compound and the nearby market. He told them the rules, which were similar enough to PAdme's other two masters that she barely bothered to listen. She didn't plan on staying longer than she had too. 

She'd been telling herself that for four years though so...

Then the Twi'lek was led away and Padme was left in the care of another of Gardula's slaves.

"Hello, what's your name?" The woman asked. She seemed older than Padme, but that might have just been years as a slave here in the desert. She had a kind smile at least, and there was something about her that was familiar. Something that made Padme relax. It didn't hurt that she was heavily pregnant.

"Padme, and yours?"

"I'm Shmi Skywalker. I've been here for several months now so if you have any questions you can ask me."

Padme managed to nod, as her throat closed up. She'd thought... She hadn't believed... It seemed so impossible that she could have ended up back in time that she'd dismissed it the rare few times she'd managed to get news from the core. The news had to have been old, or... But this wasn't something she could dismiss. This really was the past. The war hadn't happened yet. She might be able to stop it, if she could only find the right person to talk to. If she could only get free...

Shmi was still watching her. She had Anakin's cheekbones. Her eyes were the same shape as his. Thinking back she could almost remember Shmi for herself, from that first fateful landing on Tatooine. How Shmi had taken in three strangers without question, sending her son away with them, in a desperate bid for something better. 

Her son-- Shmi was pregnant--

"Thank you," Padme finally managed to say. "If you're sure it won't be too much trouble."

Shmi waved her off, "Better to be useful while I still can."

Padme bit her lip. She wasn't sure what to say. She couldn't just start in with the story of how she had once been a queen and a senator, how she knew the future, and Shmi would play a part in it. She'd only sound crazy. 

"And this will be your room. I know it's not much, but I'm across the hall. You can stuff your mattress with sand-reeds if the bunk gets too hard. I will warn you that there isn't much privacy. If you have anything special that you've been hiding, your room isn't a good place to keep it." Shmi's eye had gone distant, as if remembering a wound that had scabbed over. After a moment she took a breath and came back to herself. "Gardula is a relatively fair master. As long as you don't make trouble she'll likely ignore you most of the time."

"Thank you," Padme found herself saying.

Shmi nodded, and started to turn. 

Padme reached out, catching her sleeve, "I mean it. The world would be a better place if more people showed your kindness. I hope, maybe we could be friends?"

Shmi hesitated, maybe seeing some of her desperation in her expression, or maybe something deeper. Qui-gon had checked Anakin's midichlorian count but never Shmi's.

"I, think I'd like that," She said at last. "I'll let you get settled. Dinner will be in half an hour, I'll come to show you where."

Padme nodded and this time let her go. 

She had to stay close to Shmi. She had to find a way for them to get off this sandy rock, or barring that she had to keep them both alive for another ten years. Qui-gon would come. She could warn him. She could change things. 

Padme had to believe she could change things.


	2. Water Into Wine

"Good evening."

Padme looked up from where she was attempting to stitch together a piece of cloth. It had apparently once been a shirt, and might have been again in the hands of someone more capable. Shmi was standing in her doorway two cups in hand.

If Shmi had brought drinks then she wanted to talk. Any kind of liquid was precious on a desert planet. Padme was still picking up all the small customs of the world, but that at least was simple enough to figure out.

"May I come in?"

"As the first person to ever actually ask, yes. Please do." Padme gratefully set aside the sewing and scooted to one side. She gestured to the other half of the small mat that served as her bed. It was the only piece of furniture in the room. The room was only about five foot square though, so there wasn't room for a chair in any case. 

Shmi passed over the cups and eased herself down to the mat. Padme waited until she was settled, then passed one of the cups back. Shmi leaned against the wall and studied Padme over her cup.

Padme found she couldn't meet the other woman's eyes. They were too much like Anakin's. She didn't know her well enough yet. Instead Padme looked down into her cup and let her shoulders droop.

"How are you managing?"

"I've been a slave for the past four years, I know to keep my head down."

Shmi leaned forward and put her hand on Padme's arm, "But how are you managing?"

Padme bit her lip. She was frustrated. All the plans that she'd secretly made had been tossed out because instead of just being captured somewhere on the outer rim she was here with Shmi and she knew what was coming, even if it was years and years away, and yet not enough of what was coming to make anyone believe her - even if she wasn't being held with an explosive against her spine. Add to that the daily topils of life as a slave. She hadn't eaten a full meal in months. She had sand-rashes in places she didn't want to mention. She needed a bath and a decent night's sleep.

Looking down at her glass Padme let only the least of her concerns slip out, "I miss water."

Shmi smiled humming to herself. She looked down at her own cup. "Yes I suppose it does take some getting used to, but the ale serves its purpose."

Padme waved away the explanation, "Oh I know. Naboo is a water world. We practically wrote the book on water treatment and all the ways it can be filtered or contaminated." The Cactus ale had just enough alcohol to keep microbes from growing. It was an old and rather crude solution, but still a serviceable one. She finally took a sip. It was slightly bitter and sour, but watered down enough that the alcohol didn't bite.

"It sounds like a beautiful planet. May I ask, or would you prefer I not?"

Padme tipped her head, "I don't mind. I love my home planet but I haven't actually spent much of my life there. Not since I married my husband."

"You were married?"

"I was, before all this. He's dead now." Obi-wan had told her that much at least, before everything had ended.

"I'm sorry."

Padme shook her head. It had been four years since then. Those first years were some of the worst in her life, including the war. She had lost her husband, then suddenly her children and her autonomy, all within a matter of hours. It was terrible and a part of her knew that she really should talk to someone about it, except that there was no one she could trust. She had eventually learned to put all that away, only thinking about it sideways or at a distance. 

"Thank you but it's behind me now," Padme said. "What about you?" She couldn't stop her eyes from darting down to Shmi's stomach.

"I've never been married. I... I don't know who my child's father is."

Padme took a drink, straining the ale through her teeth in an attempt to mute the bitterness. She vaguely remembered the first time she had met Shmi. How Shmi had told Qui-gon that there was no father. Back then Padme had been amazed at the possibility of that. Now she knew better. Her body was not her own, and Shmi's wasn't either. Maybe Shmi had told Qui-gon the truth. Maybe she hadn't. It didn't matter at this point. Anakin would be born in a few months. He was what mattered.

"Do you have a name picked out?"

"I was thinking Natu for a girl, but I haven't chosen for a boy." Shmi let her hand rest on her stomach, a faint smile lifting her features.

"You don't know the sex?" Padme was faintly surprised. Her own situation was rare, or at least it was rare in the republic. Padme had only had one ultrasound, and that had been by a hastily programed droid. Between the war and hiding her pregnancy for the sake of her marriage, she hadn't wanted to risk it. She regretted that now.

"There's a midwife in the slave quarters who have taken a look but I can't afford anything more than that." Shmi admitted. 

Padme set down her cup. "Are you at least eating right? Wait, this ale!" She looked down at her cup, horrified. "You're not supposed to drink when you're carrying."

Shmi looked down at her cup. She was smiling, soft and a little sad. "Maybe not but there's nothing else."

Padme opened her mouth, then shut it. She had at least had access to the proper vitamins, but then, she had been a senator not a slave. She had no place to talk. Instead she took a breath.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't criticize. I know you're doing your best." 

"We all are." Shmi levered herself up, putting a fist to her spine as she stretched. "I'll let you rest."

Padme slumped. She didn't know if Shmi had truly forgiven her or if she was just being polite. Not everyone had as many masks as her old senate colleagues, but she just didn't know her well enough to tell.

"Shmi?"

The other woman turned in the doorway. 

"Anakin, for if it's a boy. Just a thought."

Shmi's eyebrows went up, then she nodded and was gone. Padme let out a breath. She was sore all over, and the reed mattress was doing nothing to help her sleep. She looked down at the ale in her cup, studying the fraction of her reflection in the bottom of her cup. Her skin had already started to tan, and there were circles under her eyes. The idea that had first come to her when she met Shmi pushed for her attention. 

She swallowed the ale, and lay back, trying to find a position where the reeds in her mattress didn't stab her. If she committed to the idea, it would mean staying here on this sandy rock of a planet for the next ten years. She knew there were plenty of other worse places she could have ended up, but there were better places too. She hadn't given up on her freedom in the four years that she'd been enslaved. Was it truly the price she would have to pay now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... as you can see there are apparently going to be more chapters of this. I had a brainwave and came up with several story arcs in this universe. That said, I'm not sure how often I'll be updating. I'm working on several projects in the background at the moment, and I don't know which I'll be focusing on at any given time.


	3. Brushing off your thoughts

 

Padme stood in line with the other slaves, waiting for her morning meal. She kept her head down as much as any of the others, watching the overseers through her lashes. She hadn't been on Tatooine long enough to know who to avoid. There were always a few who liked their authority more than they should. 

Her bowl was filled with tasteless mashed grain, and her cup with a precious allotment of fresh water. Her previous owners had just dumped boxes of rations in her lap every week or so and expected her to sort herself out. Gardula either thought that was too expensive or too much freedom. Padme took a sip of the water, savoring the taste as it ran over her tongue. She should save it for Shmi, maybe trade it for some ale later, but she didn't know where Shmi was, and she didn't want to let even a drop evaporate or spill while she waited. She took another sip.

One of the overseers stopped in the entryway to the courtyard and called out in Huttese. Several of her fellow slaves looked up, and answered. They started to stand, quickly gulping down their rations.

"What's happening?" Padme whispered to one of the older slaves siting near her.

"Race day. Every few weeks Gardula will go out and bet on the pods. Today's one of the qualifying races to see who gets into the Bunta eve." The older man looked her over, "Don't try to go see it if you don't have a pass. They lock down the chips of everyone not going with the mistress."

Padme nodded silently, her eyes dancing around, marking who was going with the overseer. To her surprise she caught sight of Shmi in the crowd leaving. Padme bit her lip, sending up a prier to the ancestors that Shmi would have an uneventful day.  Most of the overseers went with them, and the slaves that were left slowly relaxed. Some of the women started talking. A few of the men got out a deck of cards and started playing sabac.

"What?" Padme wondered, looking around.

Her companion scooped up the last of his mash, speaking around his mouthful, "relax. This is as close to a rest day as you'll get. No cooking, no surprise orders or visitors. As long as everything is clean when the mistress comes back, she'll be too drunk to notice anything's amiss." He stood, stretching and cracking his neck. When Padme didn't immediately answer he shrugged and went to join the sabac game.

Padme watched for a few more minutes, then got to her feet. As far as she could tell, the man had been right. There were only two overseers that she could see and one of them looked more interested in the sabac game than doing his job. after a few weeks she was familiar enough with the complex to know where the cleaning supplies were kept.  She retrieved a broom and started wandering through the complex. 

The natives might call it a palace but Padme knew better. The group of buildings might show money on the surface, but there was no depth, and no class to it. 

No one paid attention to a solitary slave sweeping out the sand. It was an endless, mindless task. Anakin had never had the time to teach her meditation, but she sank into herself without much trouble. The back and forth of the broom provided a rhythm for her thoughts. Slowly she lowered the walls she had built up around her past and the pain that waited there.

 

Her freedom -- All the things she had always taken for granted, even as she fought for them.

Her husband -- A man she had thought she knew so well, drifting farther and farther away.

Her friend -- Obi-wan, a man who stuck to his principles because he didn't have anything else.

Her friend -- Bail, a confidant who saw the horror coming, but had failed to help her stop it.

Her friend -- Satine, who had died rather than fight, and ended up a pawn because of it.

Her friend -- Ahsoka, who might still be alive, but only because she left everything behind.

Her friends -- her handmaidens, and family, and everyone else she would never see again.

Her children -- Luke, and Leia, who she would never see grow into themselves.

Her planet -- which she could go back to but only if she hid everything she knew.

Her foreknowledge -- which could damn or save her.

Her foreknowledge -- which could damn or save everyone she had lost, but at a price.

 

In the end it wasn't actually a difficult choice. The how was the tricky part, not the if, or why. Luckily she had plenty of time to figure out the details.

"Padme?" 

She looked up at the familiar voice. Shmi stood in the doorway, one hand on her stomach. She looked tired, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"How long have you been sweeping?"

Padme checked the suns. "Longer than I'd realized. I needed some time to think and well," She shrugged.

"Fair enough. Lady Gardula has returned so most of the crew is headed back to their quarters. Will you join me?"

Padme looked at the space around her. The floor was as clear of sand as it ever would be, and the late-meal wouldn't be put out for another hour or so, once the heat of the day had properly ebbed. Shmi was right, she should rest. They should both rest.

"Sure, just let me put this away," she gestured with the broom.

Shmi ended up walking with her back to the supply closet. Shmi didn't try to break the silence and at first Padme wasn't sure how to. It was only when they were settled in Shmi's room that Padme blurted out the question she wanted to ask.

"Is there a way to access the republic holonet out here?"

Shmi blinked, "I suppose it's possible if you were willing to pay for access at one of the casinos, or if you had the right equipment and a booster, but practically speaking..."

"That's a no."

"It would be hard. Why? Do you need to talk to someone?"

"Something like that," Padme shrugged. "There are things..." She glanced up at Shmi. "There are things I can't tell you, but I promise it's not anything bad." Padme was ready to plead for Shmi's trust, but Shmi was already waving her off.

"Secrets have power, but only while they're secret."

Padme nodded. It wasn't quite the same philosophy she'd had to use as a handmaden, or during the way, but it was close enough. She just hadn't thought the other woman would accept it so easily. If Shmi was already open to the idea of secrets, maybe she'd be willing to help.

"May I ask you a favor?" 

Shmi glanced at her, then nodded, "What is it?"

"Teach me Huttiese?"

Shmi laughed, "Is that all? Of course I'll teach you. I'm surprised you don't already know it."

Padme brushed back a strand of hair, "Basic, A bit of Binary, a bit of Gungan, and Sy bisti but I never picked up more than a few curse words in Huttease."

"Not Amatakka?"

Padme tipped her head in question, but Shmi brushed it away, "never mind."

Padme caught the glint in her eye, "Secrets indeed. You said something about your quarters?"

"I did," Shmi smiled and pulled a handful of small brown fruits from her sleeves, "I managed to sneak these today. I care to share with me?"

"Only if you tell me what they are," Padme agreed with a smile.

"Rodian figs. They're sweet, you'll like them."

As it turned out, she did.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is and will be heavily influenced by fialleril's double agent Vader story. I love the slave language they created, and wanted to use it, but I couldn't find if the language was ever given a name... which kind of makes sense, given that it's a secret language. So I decided to name the language fialleril. :P  
> Seriously I highly recommend everyone check out their work.
> 
> \-- Edit  
> A helpful commenter found the name of the language for me :)


	4. The ways of words

Padme woke in the predawn with the rest of the slaves. She collected her rations. She swept out the sand. She assisted with the washing. She polished Gardula's silver and cleaned mechanical parts. She did what she was told. 

The suns rose to their peak in the sky, and settled into the long afternoon trip towards the horizon. There were small squabbles about who would take the indoor tasks. Padme stayed out of it. As the newcomer she would always get the worst jobs, better not to make enemies by fighting it.

There was a wall on the north end of the compound. It was waist high and made of stacked blocks of stone without any kind of mortar. It had once been built as an Eopie pen but Gardula had grown bored of the animals and either sold them off or lost them in bets; at least that was the story according to the older slaves. More recently the corner post had been built up into a small tower, about ten feet high. The stones propped up a signal booster for Gardula's holo-hyperlink connection.

The wall was both the border of her world and her chance at a glimpse beyond it. 

Padme waited until the worst of the heat had leached out of the sky, but the ground was still radiating it. Even approaching the wall was a risk. The slave chip in her neck vibrated the closer to the boundary she got, a warning of her coming death. The vibration blurred her vision and upset her inner ear enough that if she had been better fed she would have been nauseous. She walked the wall from one end to the other, pausing only briefly in the shade of the tower.

When she made it back to the compound she had to close her eyes and breath slowly through her nose.

The second day she made the walk was better but only by the smallest margin.

"You shouldn't torture yourself like that." An older slave said on the third day. She thought his name was Arhill. They hadn't ever exchanged more than a few words, but he wasn't one of the ones who had watched her with a leer in his eye.

Padme took a moment to work through the Amatakka. When she thought she had the gist of it she raised an eyebrow, and spoke in a falsely innocent voice. "What do you mean?"

"You're new to this, being a slave. We can all see it. You still watch the doors, even when there aren't any overseers."

Padme folded her hands in front of her and bent her head slightly, "It's true that I wasn't born to this life, or this planet, but I've been a slave for several years."

He shook his head, his harsh breath making his scraggly beard twitch. "No one ever bothered breaking you. I've been around long enough to know the look. You actually manage the escape you're planning and it won't be you who suffers. You should be grateful that Shmi's a kind woman. Don't put her through that."

"I'm not planning to put her through anything." Not anything bad at least, she thought to herself.

He looked her over then shook his head. He was frowning under his beard, and when he spoke it was in a mumble, "not enough water for that one."

A few hours later in Shmi's room, the other woman hummed. "It's a saying," she explained, "It's from an old story. There wasn't enough water to wear down the mountain, and to live so elder sister called the wind to do the task instead. Put simply it means that to try whatever it is would cost more than it's worth. It also generally means that whoever he was speaking about had heat-sickness. They hadn't had enough water. Do you see?"

Pamde slowly nodded. She didn't mention that the person he'd been talking about had been herself. She took a sip of her ale. She hadn't gotten used to the taste, but she was able to swallow it down without grimacing.

"Is it a good story?" Padme eventually asked. She'd found that Shmi would share bits of herself, but only on her own terms. She and the rest of the slaves closed ranks when Padme pushed too hard or demanded straight answers. Secrets truly were the language of the land. 

Shmi smiled, setting down her own cup to rub her belly. "It's a decent one. It's about Leia--"

 "Leia?" Padme gasped. It was one of the names Anakin had whispered to her when they'd laid in bed talking about their child. Leia for if it was a girl. She had liked the sound of it. It was an old Aldaranian name, or at least that was where she'd heard it before. Padme had had no idea that it also had roots on Tatooine.

Shmi nodded, "The Kryat of the wastes, we call her elder sister, Leia."

"Kryat, you mean the kryat dragons?"

Shmi's mouth turned up in a slight smile, "Kryat is the Hutt word for dragon. Only off-worlders call them Kryat dragons."

Padem nodded, fitting the word in with the rest of the vocabulary she'd been learning.

Shmi winced. She set her cup of ale down and rubbed her belly a bit firmer, "Easy little one."

"He's kicking?"

Shmi nodded "You're so sure they will be a boy, at times like this I'm inclined to agree with you."

Padme shifted to the bed and took up one of Shmi's feet, slowly massaging the arch until the other woman relaxed a fraction.

"Thank you." Shmi was watching her again. It had gotten to be a habit, each aware the other had secrets, and not willing to pry. Each watching the other, waiting.

"There, done." Padme smoothed out her tunic and stood. "I should go. Goodnight Shmi."

"Goodnight,"

Padme slipped back to her own room, letting the dark cover any emotions she couldn't hide on her own.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait for this chapter. I've was drawn into several writing challenges the past few months but they're all done now, so I should be getting back to this and the other stories that have been on the back burner. The good news is that I've got another chapter lined up and it should be edited and posted in the next few days.
> 
> Once again many of my slave culture references are drawn straight from Fialleril's Double Agent Vader series and everyone should go read it.


	5. Word and Deed

By the time the pre-dawn light filtered over the buildings the city and Gardula's compound were both awake and moving. Padme collected her rations. She counted the guards. She polished, and swept and most importantly, she listened.  Now that Arhill had pointed it out it was easy to see. The other slaves didn't go out of their way to interact with her. She wasn't shunned and when she had questions they would always answer, but they spoke to her in basic, not the mix of trade languages that flowed like music between the others. 

She was an outsider, and in the weeks she'd been in Gardula's service she hadn't done a thing to try and change that. Shmi was the only person she had sought out since... Since she'd been enslaved. 

Names and faces of her former masters and fellow slaves flitted through her mind. So many of those acquaintances had been transitory and chaotic.

How long had she been on Tatooine? She was going to leave. Anakin would be born in less than two months. And yet... She'd almost grown used to the way the sand felt between her fingers and the way the heat sank into the stone like a living thing. 

Walking beside the wall, with the twin suns sinking towards the horizon, she wondered if she would miss it. No, she decided she wouldn't. There were bright spots, yes, just like there had been during the war, but this was not where she belonged. Shmi and Anakin didn't belong here either. She paused in the shade of the relay tower, scanning her surroundings. No one in sight.

Padme wasn't a splicer, but the technology wasn't even close to cutting edge, especially considering she had knowledge of the future. It was harder to get the case off than it was to strip the wires she needed and reset the security. Another minute and she had an admin level login keyed to her thumb print. There wasn't time to send a message, but that had to wait for Anakin in any case.  

She slipped the cover back into place, turning to look over the yard again. There was still no one in sight. She made it back to the doorway before realizing her mistake.

"Didn't realize you had mechanic training," the overseer said. He was a Trandoshan with mottled brown scales. His words came out with a hiss through his fangs.

Padme turned, clasped her hands in front of her and bowed her head, using the movement to gain an extra second to think. "I don't, not officially, but my husband was quite talented and I picked up a few things. Did you need help with something..." She looked up at him with wide eyes. Trying to look innocent without looking like prey was harder than she would have thought. 

"I'm sorry, I don't think I know your name sir."

He snarled something in a hissing clicking language that might have been a name but was more likely a curse. "Nakhara, and best you remember it." He eventually said in basic. "but more importantly, what are you going to do to convince me to forget this."

"Forget?" Padme straightened, putting two fingers to her lips. "Why would you want to forget meeting a girl like me? Or should I be the one forgetting something? Honestly you haven't made such a bad first impression. It could have been much worse, but if you insist we can start again." She offered one hand, as if she was back in the royal palace of Theed, and dipped slightly, "I am Padme, it is a pleasure to meet you Nakhara."

Nakhara looked between her hand and her face. Padme wasn't an expert at reading reptilian facial features, but she would put her credits on baffled if she had any. His tongue kept darting out, tasting the air as he flexed his hands, sheathing and unsheathing his claws. Padme couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh or not. It had been so long since she'd had to play this kind of game, intentionally turning words to attack or defend. She was out of practice. In the senate her opponent would have pushed back, calling out her foolishness. But this wasn't the senate and Nakhara wasn't a politician.

It was all of ten seconds before he got hold of himself and slapped her hand away.

"I'm not interested in an introduction. I saw you walking the wall. You could get in a lot of trouble for that. It's been a while since Toruk made an example of someone. Gardulla likes that kind of entertainment on occasion. Unless you have a good reason for me not to talk." His eyes practically glowed as he revealed his knowledge. He crooked one claw, drawing it up her arm to hook under the slave chain that hung as a visible symbol around her neck.

Padme swallowed, an unconscious reaction to a very sharp object so close to her neck. She needed a new angle. He wanted something, and she honestly had nothing to give, nothing but herself and that only to a certain extent. She pushed away that thought. So far she'd avoided becoming a bed slave, but only by the thinnest margin. Admitting she didn't have anything or claiming Gardula's protection would only mark her as a week pray animal to his instincts. 

"Go ahead," She called his bluff. She didn't have much of an option. Maybe he hadn't seen as much as he thought. "I was going to wait until I was certain before talking to our glorious mistress, but if you know that much about it than I'm sure you know best." She emphasized the bit about Gardulla being both of their mistress before letting her tone lift into a casual offhand note. 

His jaw stretched into something that couldn't rightly be called a smile. 

He grabbed her, twisting her arm as he pulled her along behind him. Padme reacted too late. She couldn't pull away without slicing open her wrist on his claws. He was twice her weight, and had plenty of muscle. Even at her best she would have been hard pressed to handle him. As it was, she was towed along in his wake like a piece of flimsy in the wind.

Padme barely recognized the room before she was tossed onto the floor in front of the overseers desk. Mostly she saw the rough flagstone of the floor with a light coating of sand taking refuge in the corners. It was cooler inside, but not by much. Toruk might have nominally been in charge of her, but he wasn't important enough to rate anything like a cooling unit. Mostly the room was just dim, the thick walls that kept out the sun also keeping in the stale air.

Padme slowly looked up. She hadn't had any dealings with Toruk  since she had arrived. She vaguely remembered him calibrating her slave transmitter, but after that she'd been too lowly to bother with. He was a mix-breed, mostly human, but with large insectoid eyes, and a green dappled pattern down his arms. Instead of hair he had a thatch of quills sticking up about an inch from his skull. His nose lay almost flat to his face but he still managed a disdainful sniff as he looked down at her. She didn't meet his eyes, staying there on the floor with Nakhara standing over her. 

"Is there an explanation for this interruption?" Toruk asked, his voice buzzing in the back of his throat.

"I caught this slave trying to escape. She was walking the north wall, messing with the signal repeater." Nakhara was flexing his claws again as he spoke.

It was such a petty accusation that Padme nearly snapped out a response. She caught herself at the last moment and turned to the overseer instead. "Sir? May I speak?"

Toruk tilted his head, and she thought he was looking at her. Eventually he waved his hand.

"I wasn't trying to escape." Padme pulled her limbs in until she was sitting with a shred of dignity. She licked her lips, mind racing. "Has my lord ever heard they saying, good fences make good neighbors?" She asked, throwing in the extra honorific. Toruk seemed the type to bask in his own importance, and playing into it couldn't hurt.

"She was going after the signal tower, I saw her open the control box," Nakhara hissed, his teeth mangling the basic.

 

Toruk barely glanced at her as he spoke, "I don't care what she did Nakhara. That's your job. If she got into the control box than you should have been there to stop it." 

Padme kept half her attention on Nakhara as she lifted an open hand, requesting she be allowed to speak.

Nakhara took a breath but Toruk bristled, his spines raising as he hissed a warning. He said something in Huttese that Padme didn't quite catch. Nakhara kept flexing his hands, sheathing and unsheathing his claws. Toruk wasn't concerned enough to stand, but he kept one hand under the desk. Padme wouldn't have been surprised to learn he had a blaster hidden down there. After a few minutes Nakhara bent his head, submitting even if his teeth were still bared. 

"You, talk." Toruk finally looked at Padme.

Bowing her head slightly, Padme started in on the story she'd been concocting while the two men argued. "On my planet there is a saying, good fences make good neighbors. It is a sign of weakness and highly dishonorable for the outer walls of a compound such as this to be in disrepair, even if it is just waist high. I wanted to know what I should be prepared for, so I went out to walk the wall." It wasn't actually a Naboo saying, she had first heard it on Rodia, but she was confident they wouldn't care about that little detail. 

"I thought the tower was a vaporator," she went on ducking her head. "But it wasn't humming. I thought it might be broken."

Toruk snorted and turned back to Nakhara, clearly dismissing her. "This is what you interrupted me for? Some off-world nonsense custom and a confused slave?"

"No, she said she had an idea," Nakhara turned on her. Padme scooted back before he could grab her. A part of her was still conscious of the act, raising her arms as if she was afraid, but a larger part of her was watching the angles. If it did come to a fight she had a better chance here than outside. Nakhara wouldn't have enough room to use his full strength. On the other hand, getting pinned against the stone walls could be just as dangerous. Getting to her feet would signal defense so she couldn't run. What she wouldn't do for a blaster. She could have shot them both and made it look like an internal argument.

Toruk snapped out a few words in Huttese. Padme only caught one word - punishment. It was enough to catch Nakhara's attention too, and he snarled something back in the same language. Padme scooted towards the door. Toruk noticed. Before he could call her out she dipped into a seated half bow.

"With your leave I will return to my duties," she said all in a rush.

He paused, clearly changing what he was going to say. "Fine," he waved her off.

Padme didn't relax until she'd made it back to her room. She pulled the curtain across the doorway and slumped against the wall. Her hands had started to shake, now that everything was over. She bit her lip, choking on the small sounds that were trying to escape her throat. Why? She had been through so much worse, assassination attempts and the Blue Shadow virus and Mustafar, so why was she shivering? She needed to get off this planet. Just a little longer, she told herself. A little longer and then she really would try to escape.


	6. pieces of things

 

Padme studied the long brown seed pod without really seeing it. She'd learned a lot about Tatooine plants in the past two months. There was a surprising amount of life here if you knew where to look.  The Cato pods were the size of her finger with two or three beans each. They had to be dried and then ground into meal and then fried before they were edible, and even then they weren't palatable. Still they were free to anyone who was brave enough to climb the cliffs where they grew, which meant they were now a good portion of her diet.

Shmi showed her how to crack the pod open along the seam.  The shell wanted to shatter, and could cut the unwarry. Padme flinched the first time it happened to her. The brown shard slid across her palm. Padme knew better then to cry out, but she couldn't stifle a gasp at the sting of pain.

Shmi grabbed her wrist, turning her hand up to look. There was no blood, just a white scratch across the base of her thumb. Shmi nodded, and showed her again how to crack the pods. When Shmi did it, the shards fell away from her, down to the ground. 

Padme's hands were hard now, the calluses of hard work built up until she didn't get blisters or even bleed, but sometimes her chest still felt hollow. Shmi knew how to survive here, she didn't. Even with her plan... Could she even last long enough to see Anakin born? Long enough to get off this world?

"How do you do this?"

Shmi glanced up from her bowl. Her belly was big enough that the bowl she was shelling seeds into had to sit beside her rather than in her lap. 

"Shell Cato?" Shmi prompted when the silence stretched longer than was customary.

"Everything," Padme admitted with a breath. "You attend Gardula directly on top of helping with things like this and I know how hard it is to just get through the day when you're seven months along..." Padme had to stop, her throat closing up. She missed Luke and Leia with every breath, and now she didn't know if they would ever exist.

"A blessing and a curse," Shmi lifted a hand, then let it fall.

"I--" Padme looked at Shmi, her lips pursed. "I don't understand."

"My pregnancy," Shmi rubbed a hand over her belly. "I don't remember when It might have happened, and Gardulla is very protective of her property. On the one hand our mistress sees me as a liability. Someone touched her things without her permission, and I didn't do my everything to stop it. On the other hand she'll get a new slave out of it. It'll take years but there is a profit for her." Shmi's voice was steady but the cato in her hands, snapped, sending shards and beans scatting over the dirt of the courtyard.

Padme put a hand on Shmi's arm, as much comfort and solace as she could give without actually telling the other woman her plan. Knowing that Anakin would have scant hours before he would be taken away and an explosion rigged under his skin... He wasn't even born yet and she was furious on his behalf.

"Is that why you still go to the races, and attend her directly? She wants to keep you close?" Padme tried to keep her voice light. She didn't know if the subject would hurt. If it was still too close to the sensitive areas they both skirted around, but she needed to know. Shmi's standing with their master could change her plans. 

Shmi picked up another cato and looked at it with more attention than it really warranted. "I was taken from my village at fourteen. My first master thought I would do well as a service slave. I got some training in how to be a pretty wallflower, and hold trays properly and such. Then I got older and I didn't end up as pretty as they wanted." She shrugged, "I ended up here."

Padme looked down at her hands, carefully and deliberately shelling the beans. How close had her friend come to being a bed-slave? Padme knew that she had nearly ended up warming someone's bed. Only her willingness to fight and the fact that her body still showed the signs of her past pregnancy had cut off that path.

It hadn't happened, and Padme wouldn't let it happen, she had to content herself with that.

"Still," Shmi spoke up, her voice forcefully light, "It does mean I know how to act, and improve Gardula's standing at these things."

"As if the hutts care."

"They care about looking like they care."

Padme pursed her lips, and focused on shelling for a few minutes. Her eyes tracked up to the archway every few seconds. The courtyard they were in was just off the kitchens, and not far from where the slaves dumped the rubbish they couldn't burn. This key location meant it was on the main hallway of the slave quarters. Anyone passing to or from Gardula's quarters had to go past their arch. 

Two slaves passed by, both human women. One carried a basket of rags that needed mending. Then an overseer going in the opposite direction, a Twi'lek. He had one hand hooked through his belt next to his stun-baton. 

"Have you spoken to Arhill since the other day?"

Padme blinked and pulled her attention back to Shmi. The other woman was looking down at her hands.

"Should I have?" Padme asked.

Shmi lowered her voice, "You were watching again. It makes some people nervous."

"So he told me." Padme tried not to clench her teeth. The next cato snapped apart under her fingers, scattering shell shards and beans alike. "Ah stoopa," She muttered, scrambling to pick up the pieces.

Shmi let her flounder for a minute before asking, "What were you before you came here?" her tone was light but the words were loud enough to carry. Padme glanced at the archway, calculating the odds that someone might be passing. No one walked past.

She set aside the cracked shells, trying to figure out how much she could say. 

"No one you would have known," especially because her counterpart was still a five year old on Naboo.

Shmi let out an exasperated breath, "Padme, I know you are an intelligent woman, try to stop and think about your words before you say them." She tossed an unbroken shell in the discard pile and picked up a new one, seemingly unaware of the look Padme was sending her way. 

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Padme knew all about picking her words. She'd been trained since she was a teenager in public speaking, negotiations -- Pamde caught her anger before it could properly get started. Shmi wasn't trying to insult her, so what was she doing? She told Padme to think about her words...

Padme mentally kicked herself when she realized what Shmi meant. 'No one you would have known.' That implied someone else might have. It implied that there was something being hidden, something to find. A boring lie would have been better. Sith spit, she was out of practice at this sort of game.

"I was an aid to the Naboo Senator." Padme said softly hopefully that didn't sound too important. On Coruscant there were hundreds of aids from hundreds of planets and the constant political shuffle meant that no one thought much of them, but here on the rim maybe it was different.

Shmi nodded. "and in that role, what did you do? At the heart of it?"

Padme looked at the other woman. Shmi was a friend, and if there was one thing she had learned on this planet it was that secrets were important here, so why was she prying? Padme hummed. She glanced at the archway. There were voices drifting in through it, from the kitchen and beyond, though no one seemed to be too close. Of course listening devices weren't so hard to come by even out here...

Padme stopped that train of thought, and drew herself back in. She'd been in this situation before. Think of it like a talk with Bail while walking the senate halls. She needed to pick her words deliberately. What picture did she want to make? What did she want to hint at and what blanks did she want Shmi to fill in for herself.

Now turn it around.

What words had Shmi chosen? What was she not saying?

"There were a lot of things I did, advocating for my--" She stopped herself from saying Lady. She couldn't remember if Palpatine was senator yet or not, but the senator before him had been a man too. "Master," she settled on. The word had different meanings here, and she certainly didn't know them all, but at least the word itself wouldn't be out of place. "And my home planet. My people..."

Padme looked up at the sky beyond the canvas awning. "There were state functions so grand that even a Hutt would hesitate. Committees and lunches and of course the senate itself.  So many people, from so many planets, everyone trying to outdo each other." She let out a soft breath. The senate had been problematic, and frustrating and a hundred other things, but it didn't take much pretending to add a note of wistfulness to her voice. 

Shmi waited, making sure she was finished. The sounds of beans and shells going into their bowls filled the courtyard.

"You were trained to be noticed." Her words weren't quiet but they fell so neatly into the rhythm of her hands that Pamde had to stop and consider the other woman. 

"Part of my job was getting people to notice and listen to me, yes." In contrast Padme's own words seemed to echo off the stones, no matter how quietly she spoke. She had stopped shelling at some point, was that it? No. It was more than that. There was something to the way Shmi held herself, her breath, her tone. Pamde bit at her lower lip, trying to figure out what she was seeing, or not seeing.

"Quite different from a slave. Most of us are taught to stay out of the way. Or at least to be nothing but our function." Shmi's words were like the wind, brushing against her and then gone.

Padme had spent more time with Jedi than most of her fellows, she knew what they could do. There had been plenty of times where Anakin had hid himself in the force, until even she nearly forgot who he was. Shmi was his mother, Padme wouldn't be surprised if she had some talent in that area. Except mind tricks only worked on the weak willed or the unsuspecting, and she wasn't either of those things. It had been a while since she'd practiced the mental shields Anakin and Obi-wan had taught her but the patterns of calm and strength came back easilly enough. 

It was a suggestion, but only in part. The sounds of Shmi shelling beans was real. The wind over the walls and the endless susurrus of the sand was real. Shmi hadn't created the patterns, she'd just used them to her advantage. She fit her words into the places where words should be, and never mind the meaning of those words. 

"That is..." Padme breathed out. It was incredible. It was terribly useful. It was something that she needed to watch for. How many times had Padme been surprised when another slave was nearby... Ancestors, she'd been a force damned fool. She'd fallen into the pattern of thinking that only the Jedi used the force. That those talents were limited to brown robes and calm serenity. 

The force was in everything.

Well, at least now that she could see her mistake, she could fix it. "Can such a thing be taught?"

Shmi's hands had never stopped. When she looked up from them she was smiling. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's this chapter and one more before I get into the real meat of the story. I've also turned this into a series. There will be several arcs. I'm still deciding exactly how I'm going to split things up but if you're interested in more of this world you might want to keep an eye on that space.


	7. under the sand

 Padme ran her hand over the sand in front of her, smoothing it into a clean patch. She was sitting with her back to the north wall of the main building. Across the empty yard the wall blocked her view of the empty desert. The first sun had set and the air was starting to cool, even if the light hadn't faded yet. The signal booster stood like a wire scarecrow, branching metal rods, against a red sky. 

She ran her fingers through the sand and tried to remember.

Her plan was simple enough, but there wouldn't be any point if she couldn't remember.

This was the third time she had set foot on Tatooine. All planets were different. The sand here felt almost slippery under her fingers, gritty, but in the way carbon shavings were gritty. She could picture it swallowing people whole all the way down to the bedrock. This sand had been carved by wind, not water. It didn't tumble stones until they were polished, it just etched away at them. The air was unique too. It had a taste to it that she couldn't put words to. Something that sat on the back of her tongue, urging her to seek it out even as it stole the moisture from her lips. 

When she'd last stood on this planet Anakin had wept in her arms. His step-father, step-brother, and brother's wife standing behind them. They hadn't cried. Padme still wasn't sure if it was because they had already mourned Shmi's loss, or if water was too precious to waste on the dead. Back then she had wrapped herself in layers of fine fabric in an attempt to keep the sand out. She hadn't done a very good job of it. Her shoes had been full of the stuff when they'd finally left.

The strong emotions tied to those few days brought the memories back clearer than she would have liked, but that wasn't what she needed. 

Pamde ran her hand over the sand. In the distance the sounds of the city were growing quiet. Animals had been fed and led back to their pens. Those who worked through the day were finally headed home or to the cantinas if they had the credits. Somewhere beyond the low buildings a speeder rumbled to life, the sound of it slowly disappearing into the distance. 

Speeders, and enguines. Oil, that was the smell she hadn't been able to place. The taste on her tongue. Machine oil and the clear tart oil Shmi had used to cook dinner that first night after a kindhearted slave boy had offered them shelter. They used the same oil in the slave kitchen, mixing it with spicy tea to make it palatable. 

It was enough. The doors of her memory opened.

Shmi and Anakin's home in the slave quarters had been a simple clay-brick structure. It was tucked up with all the others, huddling against the wind on the edge of the city. The small cooking stove had filled the room with the smells of smoke and the bantha droppings that were used as fuel, mixed with that spicy cooking oil. The smell was only pushed back by the machine smells from Anakin's room. 

Padme remembered the small cakes of bread and the desert fruit that Shmi had set out for her guests. A feast she now knew, and one that must have been painful on a slave's budget. She remembered the sand and wind outside, sounding like the worst of the summer storms on Naboo, except without the lightning and thunder. She remembered the storm finally passing and Anakin going to open the shutters onto a night so clear that she could see her shadow by the light of the stars.

"The Force has led us here, I can sense that this boy is important somehow," Qui-gon had said. He'd been wrapped in his robes, with his hands in his sleeves to keep off the chill. Padme had borrowed a Bantha fur rug, draping it across her shoulders.

"He's sweet, but he's just a boy," She'd argued. She hadn't had any better ideas. She had been so far out of her depth that, in her youth, she couldn't even comprehend it. Pirates and bounty hunters and the raw cruelty that was life in the outer rim had still been a fantasy back then. 

"The force will guide us." Qui-gon hadn't looked at her, his gaze somewhere on the horizon. She hadn't understood. Wouldn't understand for many years, until she'd found herself praying to the force to protect her husband, Obi-wan, Ahsoka, and somehow having them come home to her. 

"Just like that?" There had been scorn in her voice as she wrapped her arms and the rug around her. Only then had he looked at her.

"Just like that, of course, we can help it along a bit. I'm going to go out; spend a few hours in the cantinas, see what I can hear." He'd passed her his com-code... 

Padme ran her fingers through the sand, tracing numbers she had memorized so long ago.  Planetary code, Jedi identifier, issue number, unit number... was it five-seven-two or five-two-seven? She traced the numbers in the sand. nineteen digits. Nineteen digits that might not even be in use yet. People didn't change com-codes very often, it was a hassle. Qui-gon's com code hadn't had any extra security like Obi-wan's and Anakin's had later during the war. Calling the temple directly was an option but having one strange woman from a planet that wasn't truly affiliated with the Republic claiming what she was... 

Qui-gon would listen to her. She had to believe it. 

She traced the numbers in the sand, wiped them away, then wrote them again. Pressing the sense of them into her fingers.  The second sun, dipped under the horizon, and a wind kicked up creating a little dust devil in the yard. Slowly her numbers were worn away until they were unintelligible squiggles. The numbers were in her fingers now. She wouldn't forget them again. 

Padme stood, and brushed off her skirts. There was sand in her sandals. She had learned the trick of tapping it out now, and did so before she stepped up into the hallway. Shmi would be waiting for her. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time but the next one will be longer to balance it out.


	8. Race Day

After two and a half months Padme knew the signs of a race day even if she didn't bother keeping track of the races themselves. 

Martel had his book out, taking down names and wagers for the slaves. Arhill was already settled in at the table where they played sabac. The kitchens had slowed down, putting out food that could sit for a while so that they too could take as much of a holiday as any of them got. 

Padme was considering the sabac table as the overseers and guards gathered. She knew the basic rules, and that half of the game was reading the other players. She needed to start building a reputation as something other than the new girl who needed to be watched, and winning or even losing a few credits would be a good start on that. Except she didn't have any credits to get her started. 

One of the guards called, and Shmi moved to stand, one hand on her belly. Shmi's face went pale. Padme was close enough to hear the little "oh" as she wavered.

"Shmi!" Padme launched herself sideways as Shmi slumped. They ended up on the ground together, Shmi's limp form sprawled over Padme. She could hear the other woman's pulse, strong, but irregular, or maybe that was the way her hands were shaking. 

Others had gathered before Padme put things together enough to call for them. Other slaves, hands laying Shmi out, getting something to shade her, a paper fan waving over both of them. 

"What's all this?" Toruk pushed his way through the crowd, glaring people into parting for him. Padme pulled herself together, letting her mind settle into old patterns, assessing the situation, the most immediate dangers and taking aim. Shmi needed rest, possibly a healer, but she wouldn't get it if she was dragged off by this overseer. Shmi was in no condition to serve Gardulla.

Padme stood putting herself between her friend and Toruk. She softened her eyes and ducked her head performing a slightly hunched bow. "I'm sorry sir. Shmi is not able to serve today. I offer to take her place." She wanted to order the man to go away, or at least listen to her. Every instinct was screaming that she straighten her spine and defend her friend, but that would only put both of them in more danger.

Padme saw the backhand coming and turned with the blow. She refused to cry out. That didn't seem to be what Toruk was after in any case. He shoved past her to loom over Shmi. The inhuman spines on his head stood up, as he let out a buzzing hiss of anger or frustration. The other slaves shrank back, ducking their heads. A few quietly slipped away, back to their own corners of the courtyard, but more stayed. Shmi was well liked.

"She needs rest and water." Padme didn't actually put herself between him and Shmi again, but she was sorely tempted. 

Toruk turned on her, raising his hand again. 

"If you send her out she could faint again or worse, and Gardulla would not be pleased." Padme spoke fast, eyes dancing between the hand and his face. Toruk at least was more interested in improving his own standing rather than beating others down. He paused. "I have attendant training from Naboo. I can take her place." 

Her pulse was thundering, and all she could think was _please let this work_ , over and over in a desperate loop. She didn't want to leave Shmi, but she knew the others would take care of her...

Toruk looked over her and sneered, "You want to take responsibility, then you can tell Gardulla."

Somewhere in the background other slaves were murmuring, and guards were laughing. Padme had the sinking feeling that people were betting on her.  She couldn't tell. Her ears were ringing too loud to make sense of it. She dipped into a handmaid's curtsy, nodding her agreement and acquiescence. 

 

 

Padme hadn't been face to face with the Hutt since she had been purchased. The smell hit her first, like rancid oil or sour wine. It was all the more striking since the desert leached smells out of the air nearly as effectively as it did moisture. She breathed out slowly, keeping her hands folded at her sides. Her head bowed, shoulders hunched.

Toruk and Gardulla spoke in Huttese. Toruk explaining the situation with plenty of flattery towards their master and insults at the slaves. Padme stayed in her half bow until Gardulla addressed her directly.

"Slave, You have attendant training?"

Padme had never been more grateful for Shmi's teachings. She was able to answer in huttese without trouble. "Yes, my lady. I once served the senator for Naboo."

Gardulla grumbled something low in her throat then turned back to Toruk, "And you're sure my normal girl can not serve."

He spread his hands, "She might be persuaded, but she would be slow, and clumsy. She might collapse again, which would not represent you well."

"It would not. Very well, You may serve me girl, but if you fail me I will have it out of your hide."

Padme bowed deeper, "Yes my lady." She waited until Gardulla turned away to step back and join the five other slaves who were going to the race. A Tholothian woman a few years older than Padme pulled her aside, quickly running a brush through her hair, then adding kohl to her eyes while Padme braided it. She was given a gauzy scarf to wrap around her head, and a belt of copper bells that almost managed to hide the poor quality of her slave clothing. 

While they worked the woman whispered instructions. "Never ask questions, not even to clarify. If you're not sure what the lady wants, ask one of us. She only drinks sunfruit wine, but doesn't know anything about vintages. If she sends you to place a bet tell Toruk or one of the other overseers. Do not try to place the bet yourself. If someone speaks to you, say you work for Gardulla. You can not give any free sentient favor.  Gardulla would be very unhappy if she found someone had touched her things. You may not talk to free sentiants unless they speak to you first." It went on. Some of it was simple enough. Common sense really. Other bits seemed nonsensical, but she tried to remember them anyway. 

Gardulla slid up onto her hovercart, and the big front gates of the compound opened. Padme's chest went tight. It wasn't really freedom, but after being confined to one set of walls for all these months it was close enough. She stepped forward, in line with the other slaves, only to feel the buzzing start up at the base of her skull; the warning that she was near the boundary of her slave transmitter. 

Padme nearly sobbed. She lost a step, and the helpful Tholothian turned to her with wide worried eyes.

"My transmitter," Padme managed to gasp over the ringing in her head, "I haven't been out before." Her vision blurred and when she blinked her eyes clear again the other woman was gone. The procession had made it to the street, almost parade-like in it's slow splendor. Padme knew she should follow, but she couldn't. In a minute they'd be out of sight and she'd loose her chance. She'd be punished as soon as someone noticed she wasn't where she was supposed to be and... 

The pain and vibration cut off so abruptly that her senses tried to compensate, like stepping onto dry land after a long time on a boat. She swayed in place, gasping.

"More trouble than you're worth," Toruk snarled in huttese. He stood in the doorway, tucking a control box away before she could get a good look at it. 

The Tholothian woman grabbed her elbow, and forcefully marched her forward, bowing to Toruk as they crossed the threshold. Padme let the other woman guide her as she blinked out at the bustling street. The low stone buildings were new and familiar all at once. Beings of all races pressed forward around them, taking advantage of the wake of Gardulla's hover sled to cut through the crowd. All pressing forward as they headed for the race.

 

 

 

Padme didn't have the time to worry about the detonator under her skin, or how close she'd come to setting it off. She had a job to do. She stepped up her pace to match the Tholothian until they had caught up to the end of Gardulla's train.

"Thank you," Padme said in a tone designed to barely be heard over the crowd.

"Welcome, I'm Saillii."

"Padme."

The other woman nodded. "Get ready, we're almost there."

Sure enough they turned and the stands rose up in front of them. There were plenty of places for people to sit, divided by comfort level, amount of shade, view of the main screen and the starting line. Many of the seats were already filling up. Gardulla and the other hutts didn't need to hurry, unlike the average sentient. Their positions were long established by custom and credits. 

As they got closer Padme swept her eyes over the various buildings. The large hanger for the racers, pods, and their equipment sat off to the south, the same as in her memories. The main area in front of the arena where most of the bets were placed was packed with people shouting in several languages. The different pods, drivers, and the odds were up on a big holo-board and updated even as she watched.

Gardulla's arrival caused enough of a stir that the sled was forced to a stop. Gardulla waved a hand, speaking loud enough that her words would have carried even if Padme and the other slaves hadn't been waiting on her command.

"I will place my bets. Prepare the box for my arrival."

Toruk stepped forward, offering a datapad, as Saillii and the other slaves burst into motion. Padme only hesitated for a moment before following Saillii.

"What should I do?"

Saillii glanced back at her, and bit her lip. "Shmi normally sees to the sled. There's space for it right at the base of the ramp, over there. Make sure the area is clear and that the lady has a clear path to the box. She doesn't like to be waylaid." Saillii waved a hand in the right direction. Padme could see where she meant. As a Hutt Gardulla would have trouble traveling too far over the hot sand on the street. Padme took a breath, she could do this.

"I'll handle it." 

Padme came around a corner and clearly saw where the sled should be parked. There was a faded canvas awning over a sheltered corner just where she'd expected. Unfortunately there was also a speeder parked haphazardly in the spot. It was a nicer speeder, at least by Tatooine standards. Someone had clearly done some work on it. That someone was nowhere to be found. 

Fear bleed through her veins quickly replaced by anger. This was her first real task and some idiot had managed to plant themselves firmly in her way. Everything Shmi had been teaching her fled her mind as Padme marched forward, chin up, back straight and wearing a look that had made politicians from three sectors flinch.

She checked the ignition but the vehicle was locked down tight, not surprising considering where they were. She checked the repulsors to see if she could move it without turning it on, but again, no luck. She was considering the hood, and wondering if she had enough time to jimmy it open and maybe hotwire the thing when a buzzing blue presence nearly ran into her head. 

He was a toydarian, but beyond that the angry spittle and waving limbs were all she could see. She heard him well enough though, shouting about his speeder and thieves and then when he noticed the chain around her neck, he started threatening to have her whipped. 

He could do it. It was within his rights if she stepped out of line and no overseer or slave owner would believe her over a free sentient. At any other time in her life she would have pressed him, called his bluff or pulled out some bit of information that he wouldn't know. She didn't have any information and she had no authority. She didn't know this being. She couldn't play off his sympathies or fears. That only left standing her ground.

"You could have me whipped bloody, it wouldn't change that you'd have a black mark from one of the Hutts." 

"What?"

"Any moment now Lady Gardulla will finish placing her bets and then she will come around that corner and expect to park her sled right there. Blame it on me all you want, it doesn't change the fact that if you make her miss the start of the race you'll never do business on this planet again." Padme had no idea if it was true.  If it had been her, she simply would have found another spot, or had one of her people park the sled while she went up to the box, but she and Gardulla were very different beings.

He swung back in the air. Padme couldn't tell if he was more shocked by the fact that a slave was pressing him, or the contents of her words. "You're bluffing."

"With what? My own skin? I admit I don't have much else but I do still value my life. Now I kindly advise you to move your vehicle." Her words came out sharper than they probably should have as she pointed at the speeder.

The toydarian rubbed a hand over his face. He glanced back at the speeder. Before he could speak a voice rang out from behind Padme.

"What is this?" 

This time Padme couldn't help but flinch. Toruk did not sound happy. The toydarian glanced between her and the overseer, as Padme cleared the way, bowing her head. She wanted to scream. She wanted to ball her fists and pace and vent to someone she trusted, but a lifetime in the public eye was good for one thing at least. She kept her face neutral, her posture non-threatening, but also non-yielding.

She hated this. Hated that the situation was quickly spinning out of her control, hated that it was so simple and yet had such enormous consequences, hated that her owner would care about something so trivial and cause so much pain and fear because of it. She hated that she had an owner at all. 

Toruk looked like he would have hit her if she hadn't stepped back fast enough. He looked at the toydarian and spat something in Huttese that Padme only caught half of. Something about leaving and scrap metal and possibly a few insults. The toydarian answered with more insults, which was when she stopped trying to piece together the foreign language.

Pamde desperately looked around. If there was another spot, if there was some inspiration, some key that would make this problem go away, she had to find it. Nothing, just the dusty streets, people and droids making their way towards the stands, completely ignoring the scene tucked away into this little corner.

The Toydarian turned scowling and grumbling, "stop to place one little bet and suddenly have the Hutts come down on you. Not good business..."

He was just a few seconds too late. As soon as he touched the hood, Gardulla's sled came around the corner. The Hutt said something about odds and racers before she turned and saw the situation.

"What's going on? Why is this trash in my spot?" Gardulla demanded in a loud voice. She waved a hand at both the speeder and the toydarian. 

"Ah, my lady--" Toruk faltered. Padme had never seen him hesitate before but she knew instinctively that it was the wrong move. Her feet moved without her consciously deciding to step forward. She bowed and spoke, an echo of a long ago conversation with Boss Nas flickering through the back of her mind.

"Forgive me my lady, for Huttese is not my best language," She spoke slowly and carefully in Huttese both so that she could get the syntax right, and to let the seed of an idea grow. "This merchant was placing a bet. That is, he wished to place a bet, with you." 

Toruk made a hissing Chittering sound but didn't contradict her and thankfully neither did the toydarian. She could feel his eyes on her though. After all, she was making a wager of her own, and if there was one thing the people of this planet respected it was a good play out of a bad hand.

Padme dipped a little lower as she waved a hand behind her at both Toruk and the Toydarian, "I tried to tell him that I could not approve such a thing no matter how much money he has or how fine his speeder. When Toruk arrived I thought it best to leave such matters to him, as a senior member of your staff."

Gardulla rumbled as she settled back on her sled. Padme held her breath, hanging on her judgment as much as she ever had on a vote result in the senate. The Hutt looked over the scene a second time, and this time Padme saw the greed in her eyes. 

"Which racer do you favor?" Gardulla asked. Padme used the question as an excuse to bow aside and take up a place with the other slaves near the wall. At least one of her fellows was staring at her. 

The toydarian was rubbing his chin. His expression had gone thoughtful, "Orar Shule."

Gardulla grunted, "Cen Vondas will ruin him."

"Cen is good, but he wrecked his pod last month, no chance he's got it working properly already. He's desperate."

Gardulla grumbled again, but it was more thoughtful this time. "Fine I'll take that bet. Your speeder against, 5000 Cho Mar."

Padme flinched. She hadn't meant to imply that the Toydarian was going to bet his speeder, but it was out of her hands now. The Toydarian looked like he wanted to laugh or scoff, but caught himself before he could do something so disrespectful. Instead he put his hands on his hips.

"My speeder is worth five times that. I've put good money into this machine. 20,000."

Padme let out a breath. Her gamble had worked. The day was hardly over, but Gardulla wasn't going to complain about the speeder if she won it, and even if she lost, she likely wouldn't remember the specifics, not enough to take it out on one faceless slave. At least, Padme hoped not. 

They went back an forth, arguing for a few minutes.

"My Lady if I may," Toruk stepped forward, "As much as you are discussing, well, that's the price of a slave, and you have plenty of slaves." Toruk glanced in her direction and Padme felt cold, even under the Tatooine suns. Gardulla might not remember, but he certainly would.

The Hutt nodded, "The speeder against one of my slaves."

For a moment it looked like the Toydarian wasn't going to agree, then he nodded decisively and buzzed forward to slap her palm. 

The group took several minutes to move the speeder enough to get the sled parked beside it. All the while, Gardulla was taunting the Toydarian about how it would soon be hers. He responded with race stats and laughter. It was all in good fun for them. Padme felt like the sand had closed her throat. 

If she was sold away, then her chances of freeing Shmi and Anakin, already vanishingly low, dropped to near nothing. The Toydarian could sell her off planet again and then it wouldn't matter what she knew. 

She managed to perform as expected during the race. Pouring wine and fanning was hardly difficult. It left her mind with far too much space to fear the outcome of the race.  

Fears that were born out when Orar Shule won the race and the Toydarian announced he would come by Gardulla's compound tomorrow to collect his winnings, before turning his speeder back towards town.


End file.
